It's my first day back at group therapy and I put in a special request today. I wanted to share my story with the group. "Welcome back everyone, and I would especially like to welcome Brendon back to the group," Pete says. Everyone welcomes me back. Then Pete continues again, "Grab out your diary sheets please, so I may come around and collect them all." I don't have a diary sheet because this is my first day back. Everyone else hands in their diary sheets. Once he grabs them all he then explains what we will be doing for group today. "Alright now I know we got done sharing our stories a few months ago but one member of the group didn't get to share their story and they would like to do that today. So let's all give our full attention to Brendon," Pete says. I look at him for permission to start and he nods his head.

"I was three years old when my dad first entered my room. It was about two in the morning when he would come. When everyone else was asleep. He said he wanted to play a game. I was so young that I didn't understand what he was trying to get me to do. He told me he and mommy played this game all the time and that if we played it I couldn't tell mommy about it or else she would get jealous and I would get in trouble. I didn't like my dads game though. It hurt me. I was afraid of going to bed. I would ask to sleep in my moms room. So that he wouldn't try to play with me because mom was there, but then my dad started to ground me to my room. I couldn't sleep in moms room," it hurts too much remembering all of this. Everyone is going to think I'm disgusting.

"As I got older I started growing bigger. My dad didn't want me to get bigger. He would rush me out the door before I could get breakfast and ground me from eating dinner. I was starving and there was nothing I could do about it until I turned ten. That was when my dad died. I was happy. Everyone wondered why I was happy my dad died. I couldn't tell them the truth. I would get in trouble. People would think I was disgusting. I started to pretend I had no memories from when my dad was alive so people wouldn't ask about what we used to do together," I admit looking at Dallon. He holds onto my hand.

"Then I started to get feelings for my best friend. It was normal for a boy to like a boy right? No. I got bullied because of it. I lost my best friend. Him and a group of people started calling me names. Like, "faggot, freak, crybaby, ugly, dork, and more." They would beat me up. I tried not to let any of it get to me until I was called fat one day. I couldn't be fat, not if I wanted people to like me. I mean isn't that how it worked with my dad. He only loved me when I was at my smallest weight. So I started cutting back how much I was eating. I started exercising more, but over the holiday I would gain all the weight I lost back. I was out of control and I needed to be in control. So it became a game. How long could I actually go without eating. How much weight could I lose. Maybe I could make my goal weight 90 pounds, like how much I weighed when my dad was alive. Once I hit my goal weight I still wasn't happy. So I tried to lose even more weight until I was hospitalized again. I wanted to die. I'd rather die skinny then live being fat. It wasn't until Dallon started visiting me that I realized I didn't need to weigh 0 pounds to be loved. He loved me the way I was, whether I was 80 pounds or 600 pounds. He helped me realize how wrong my dad was. I wasn't the messed up one, my dad was. And I needed to realize that or else I would've never gotten better. And I truly wanted to get better this time, and I want to stay better,"

I smile at Dallon. He gives me a hug. I was pretty much in my own world when I told the story I wasn't paying attention to anyone reaction but it looks like some people are just staring at me in shock while others are crying. Great this is not what I wanted to happen they're all disgusted and hate me now. I put my head down, and as if Dallon had read my thoughts he lifts up my head and tells me, "No one thinks you're disgusting. We're here to support you. Some people just have a tough time hearing stories like that. You did a great job though." I hug Dallon tightly. I hope to god he's right. This is one of the hardest things I've ever had to do.

"Okay everyone you can all get up to get snacks," Pete says, "Brendon may I have a word with you?" I nod my head. He leads me outside the room and tells me, "I'm a mandated reporter. Do you know what that means?" I nod my head. "I'm going to have to talk to someone about what you said about your dad," Pete says. "I know," I respond, "I just don't want to hide what happened to me anymore or else- or else I'll keep reliving it and I need to get it out of my head." We walk back into the room. Dallon hands me a bag of lays lightly salted potato chips. I smile at him, "thanks." I open up the bag and for the first time in forever I allow myself to eat my favorite chips. I sit down on the couch with Dallon and lean on his arm. He wraps his arm around me as I eat. "So do you want me with you when you tell your mom?" Dallon asks. I nod my head. I have no idea what her reaction is gonna be so I want someone there with me when I tell her.

Pete gathers us all back to the couches. "Here are your guys' new diary sheets remember to fill them out and write your names on them, and maybe let's try filling them out day of and not last minute. It turns out a lot better that way," Pete says handing out the diary sheets. I put mine in my backpack. "Alright you're free to go," Pete announces. We exit group. I get into Dallon's car. Dallon drives us to my house. The whole time me and Dallon are holding hands. I'm so nervous about telling my mom. I have no idea how she's gonna react. When she hears bad news she always gets mad at me but when I tell her about something bad that happened to me she always rushes to protect me. I hope it's the latter.

Once we arrive I stay in the car. Dallon walks over to the passenger side of the car. He opens my door. "You coming?" He asks. "Yeah," I reply. He helps me out of the car. We soon walk inside and find my mom on the couch, watching the news. "Hey ma, can you turn off the TV for a second? I need to talk to you," I ask her nicely. "Sure thing," she says turning off the TV, "what's up?" I take a deep breath in and start telling her the story. I can't really read her emotions that well. I'm nervous. I finish talking. Dallon holds my hand.

"I'm shocked," is all she says for a while then adds, "I can't believe you're making up lies about your father just to have someone but yourself to blame your eating disorder on!" She shouts as she gets up. I start sobbing, "w-why don't you b-believe me?" I ask her. "My husband was a good man he never laid a finger on you, and he never grounded you from meals!" She shouts again. "Y-Yes he did," I cry out. "Excuse me grace but did your husband physically abuse you? I just don't understand how a mother could not stick up for her son when he says he was sexually abused unless you were hit in the head too many times!" Dallon goes off "Get the fuck out of my house, both of you and don't even think about coming back. "I-I need my stuff," I tell Dallon. We go upstairs and pack my things. I take them out to his car. "I'm sure my dad won't mind if you stay with us." Dallon tells me. I hug him. We get in the car and drive to his house. "I'll always protect you B," I hear Dallon say as I slowly drift off to sleep. Today has been a long day and I'm just exhausted, but at least I have Dallon.